


and I just wanna tell you I am

by chrismarieee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrismarieee/pseuds/chrismarieee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Louis doesn’t know how to handle them all right now, can’t possibly imagine taking care of the lot of them.  He can barely hold himself together.  His hands tremble in his lap, so he clings to himself and tries to ignore the way Zayn is staring at him, like he sees something Louis doesn’t.  It’s unnerving.  All Louis wants is to get to the hospital, to Harry.  That’s all he can think about.</i><br/> </p><p>Harry takes a fall, and the only thing Louis can concentrate on is the fact that he never told him the truth.   It's never too late until it is.  A story of near losses and second chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and I just wanna tell you I am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chelseafrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseafrew/gifts).



> I really hope you like this! Your prompts were all lovely, but the first one stuck. Harry isn't sick so much as injured, so I'm hoping that's okay. =)
> 
> Thank you to my lovely, wonderful beta, B! You were such a big help. <3 Any mistakes are most certainly my own.
> 
> Title from Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran.
> 
> This takes place in the not so distant Where We Are Tour future. I do not at all wish any terrible injuries upon the lovely Harry Styles, only butterflies and fuzzy, happy feelings. I don't know One Direction. This isn't real. Blah blah blah. ENJOY!

The sound pulsing off from the crowd is like a wall of energy, and Louis is just eating it up. The _Where We Are Tour_ has been smashing thus far, but tonight feels like it’s going to be one to remember among the rest. A big reason is the crowd, they’re so loud and energetic, so happy to be there and sing along. Louis can never say enough good things about an excited audience, it’s right up there with his favorite things. He revels in that energy, pulls it in and puts it all out. The better the crowd, the better the show. The crowd is more than just good tonight, and Louis has been beaming every moment he can. It’s all loud cheers, smiling faces, high energy. Loud, loud, loud, just how Louis likes it. It’s positive and wonderful and lovely, and Louis’ just having a good night. They all are. There have been silly little pranks, ridiculous dances and laughter. They aren’t too far into the US leg of the tour, and it’s already going strong. It’s no different than any other One Direction gig, it just feels a little bigger.

The music kicks up and they move right into _Kiss You_ , which is always a crowd pleaser (much like every other one of their songs). The song pushes forward and Louis smirks as the crowd stirs in a slight frenzy. The fans can never deny Harry when he goes for the crotch grab over the line, _You can get, get anything that you want._ Louis honestly can’t blame them, it’s easy to get a bit flustered over Harry. So basically everything is going just fine. There is no warning signs that something bad is about to happen. It’s only as the bridge starts building that Louis notices something isn’t right.

There is yelling, yelling that isn’t the normal type of yelling. It’s fearful, shrill screams. Some screams that are singling out Harry’s name. Louis misses his cue as he whips his head around in search of a curly head of hair. He finds Liam first, Liam who’s on his knees beside Harry who is laying out flat on the stage. There’s a commotion, and so much confusion. He hears Harry moan brokenly, and sees Niall’s terrified eyes. He sees a grim faced Paul rushing the stage and the band’s wide eyes. He sees Zayn’s mouth moving over a microphone, his hand gripping it far too tightly. He sees all of these things, but mostly he sees the blood. Blood that’s curling around the side of Harry’s head, almost like a crown. Louis is frozen, frozen and shocked, frozen and confused. It was all so quick, everything had been perfect just a moment ago. His eyes catch Harry’s green ones, and they hold for a moment in time, they hold tight, until they become unfocused as Harry’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

Louis’ chest feels tight and his eyes are watering. He tries to get closer to Harry, closer because that’s where he needs to be, but Liam holds him back as Harry gets blocked from his view. The sound of the crowd is an angry, confused, worried roar, and he is right there with them. It feels wrong, everything feels so wrong . He can't remember leaving the stage. He just focuses on the hands that guide him. If he focuses on anything else it will just be too much. So he lets himself be carted around, all the while trying to keep the images from clouding his thoughts, but that feels impossible when all he can see is red.

 

*****

 

"Did you see it happen?"

The question startles Louis out of his thoughts, and he sits up out of his slump, eyes blinking rapidly. Zayn is leaning his head back to stare at Liam as he waits for the answer to his question. Louis can just barely get a grasp on the conversation. They’re heading off to the hospital about twenty minutes behind the ambulance that whisked Harry away. Louis feels distant and distracted, like part of him is already in that hospital with Harry. He should be there. He can’t stand this distance, this not knowing.

“He was already falling when I looked. Maybe if I’d been quicker I could have-” Liam’s voice starts to sound funny and Louis hates it, hates that Liam somehow is trying to take on a fraction of the blame.

“No. Stop.” Louis interrupts him, his own voice sounding choked. He curls his legs up onto the seat, making himself smaller. “‘s not your fault.” He feels it fiercely in his chest, the need to to protect them all. He can’t have Liam thinking like that, it was foolish and completely untrue. Accidents happen. 

Niall is silent in the back seat with Liam, his eyes turning to look out the window, his mouth curving down into a hard frown. The look is unnatural for him, but so are the circumstances. Louis doesn’t know how to handle them all right now, can’t possibly imagine taking care of the lot of them. He can barely hold himself together. His hands tremble in his lap, so he clings to himself and tries to ignore the way Zayn is staring at him, like he sees something Louis doesn’t. It’s unnerving. All Louis wants is to get to the hospital, to Harry. That’s all he can think about.

 

*****

 

It’s been over an hour. At least, that’s how long Louis thinks it’s been. They had not gained any knowledge since the car ride over. All they know for sure is that Liam saw it happen. Liam saw Harry fall hard and hit his head on a sharp corner. The mood had lifted ever so slightly since arriving, and he can’t understand that. Louis remembers the jokes they had made about Harry proofing the stage, and he feels sick, wishing they had taken it all more seriously. Louis should not be surprised that Harry’s own two feet did him in. He shouldn’t be. Yet he can't wrap his head around the fact that nothing else has ever gotten him this bad. Not the fire, or the risers. Not smoke machines or objects hanging above his head. Not even the slippery stage the many times it had rained on them. Louis just doesn’t understand how Harry was able to get by all of that generally unscathed only to be done in by his own feet. It’s frustrating and ridiculous and exactly what he should have expected, if he’s being honest with himself. But being honest with himself is exactly what he doesn’t want to be doing right now, and he wishes his brain would turn off for a bit. It’s expected that his mind would wander when they have been waiting over an hour for some sort of news, and they have been given absolutely nothing. To say that Louis is going out of his mind with worry is an understatement. Worry is all he can fully concentrate on, worry and regret, anyway.

Liam is sat in a chair, staring at the wall straight in front of him. He’s so still and quiet and far away, Louis just can’t relate. What he can relate to is the devastated slump to his shoulders and the worried tilt to his mouth. Louis can relate to worry. Zayn is curled up at Louis’ side, his head leaning against Louis’ shoulder, elbow digging into the wood of the chair. His phone is in his lap, opened to a text conversation with Perrie. Louis’ fingers are twitching, hands wringing together. He should call someone, talk to Gemma, maybe, but he makes no move to do so. His feet tap anxiously against the floor, he keeps at it for over a minute when Niall finally grabs at his ankle, stilling him.

“Cut it out, will ya?” He sounds tired and drawn from his place on the waiting room floor. He has bags under his eyes and a coffee stain on his shirt. Louis hums in response and attempts to remain still. They’ve been here a while, at this point. Louis can’t even begin to figure out how long, he’s been trapped in his own head for so much of it. Niall squeezes his ankle in apology, and Louis just shuts his eyes and tries to take a steady breath. He doesn’t understand what’s taking so long. The need for Harry to be okay is ready to burst out of his chest. There’s no other option, Louis can’t even bear to think it. His mind runs wild like a fire, and he tries to push it all back. Harry would tell him to give meditation a try, if he were the one in the waiting room now. But he’s not, and even the thought of him being here at all is enough to make it clear that meditation isn’t on the table. One of his hands reach down and drags through Niall’s hair and he hears him let out a sigh. They always seem to be running low on time, always on the go and nearly late for something. Now that’s all they have, and all they can do it wait. 

 

*****

 

Finally seeing Harry is both a relief and a devastation. Louis can’t remember the last time Harry looked this small, and it aches just to see him that way. There’s a big bandage on the side of his head, near the temple. They had to shave a decent portion of his hair off to give him stitches, but it doesn’t matter. To Louis, he’s the most beautiful he’s ever been, because he’s alive and he’s okay. That’s far more important than curls, any day.

Niall gets to Harry first as the rest of them hang back. He’s a wet mess of tears and curse words, and Harry rubs his thumb under his eyes, catching some of Niall’s tears before they can run down his face. Niall’s murmuring a thousand I love yous and is taking in all the love he can get. The absolute, pure relief Louis feels is unmatched to any other feeling he’s ever had. He can’t believe this day, and this moment, and he just wants to curl up next to Harry and tell him everything is going to be okay. There’s a lot more that he wants, too, but it’s too much to think about right now. It’s too much to think about the fact that he almost lost everything, almost lost what matters most, who matters most. Knowing that he almost lost the chance makes it even harder to hold it all in now, but he has to. Talking to Harry about Everything when the rest of the boys are in the room is just a bad idea. That doesn’t make it any easier, though.

By the time Louis gets to sit by Harry’s bedside he’s a bit less of a shaky mess, but only just. Harry’s leaning back against his pillows, his face a pale wash in the artificial light of the room, his eyes heavy and dark. He looks nervous and tired, his mouth turning down at the corner, looking as if he’s about two seconds away from a trembling bottom lip.

“What’s wrong then, love?” Louis asks, leaning against the hospital bed and looking on with concern. He can’t stop the need he feels, can’t hold back from wanting to push back his hair and kiss his forehead. He wants so many little things that it’s hard to keep track of the big picture.

“It’s stupid.” Harry mumbles, looking down and turning his head away.

“Hey now, enough of that. It’s not stupid.”

“It is.” He snuffles his nose and turns his face back to Louis’. “It’s my hair...I just...I feel dumb?” He shrugs and tucks down his chin, looking suddenly very much like the sixteen year old boy that Louis met all those years ago. 

“Why would you feel-”

“‘M embarrassed. They shaved it here, see, and now I look weird and I know it’s my own fault, but-”

"You still look proper dashing, Hazza. Very punk. Might have to say goodbye to your hipster ways.” He pokes Harry in the side, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. “Embrace the new you."

Harry might have been about two seconds from blubbering, but those words are enough to put that off for now. Instead he is smiling, dimple on display, his cheeks pinking up as Louis looks on. He tucks his head down after a moment, clearly feeling bashful. His eyes are a bit glassy and he’s clearly feeling a bit clingy, as he grabs for Louis’ finger before he can pull it away. He’s gripping it rather tightly for someone tired and slightly high on painkillers. Louis can’t help but bring up his other hand to carefully comb through what is left of his curly mane, knowing that Harry always likes that. He’s definitely more feline than human when there’s a hand tangled in his hair. Harry smiles dopily up at Louis and Louis can’t bite back his grin. He’s so relieved and happy, though the nerves still bubble just at the surface, begging him to just get it all over with.

“You hungry, love? Thirsty?” He asks and then tugs lightly on a curl. 

“Lou, that’s what the nurses are for.” Harry looks bemused and confused, but he still adds. “I could go for a banana.” Louis rolls his eyes affectionately, bursting with the need to just lean down and kiss him. It’s so hard not to, the thought alone has his eyes glazing over. Zayn catches Louis’ eye in that moment and raises his eyebrows, looking on with an amused, knowing lilt to his lips. Louis only narrows his eyes and brings back his attention to his boy. His boy that isn’t really and truly his boy, but Louis isn’t going to think too hard about that right now. 

 

*****

 

Visiting hours end, even for the rich and famous. Louis can’t help but feel just a little annoyed at that, almost wishes that he wasn’t above throwing a diva fit over to get his way. But he is above it, and so they must leave. Harry stares at him with sad eyes, obviously wishing he could leave with them. He looks extremely pathetic, his mop of hair laying flat off of his head, lips in a slight pout while in a hospital gown. It’s endearing as fuck and all Louis wants to do is order dozens and dozens of roses and teddy bears to make him smile. It’s a sickening feeling, and he knows he’s in too deep. Louis cards his fingers through Harry’s hair and gives him a soft smile.

“See you in the morning, Lou.” It sounds like a promise from Harry’s tired lips and that’s all Louis can concentrate on now, tomorrow isn’t so far away. Zayn waits at the door for him, lips quirked and eyes fond. He waves at Harry and throws an arm around Louis’ shoulders, tugging him in as close as possible. Niall and Liam walk farther ahead, giving Zayn and Louis some semblance of privacy, not that Louis expected to need it.

“You ever gonna say something, Tommo?” Zayn speaks carefully, giving Louis’ shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“I-” He pauses, clearing his throat and wishing there was an easy answer. Zayn had been dealing with his 'Harry Situation' for years now, Louis was certain he must be getting sick of it. “I don’t know if I can.” He shakes his head before Zayn can bother retorting. “I know I have to, though. It hurt too much, seeing him like that. Knowing I never tried.”

“Good.” Zayn nods and doesn’t even hesitate before adding, “You know he loves you, though, Louis. That never changed. It’s obvious just watching you two.” Louis stomach clenches at the thought, and he knows he can’t let himself cling to that hope too dearly. Zayn isn’t an idiot, he’s the all seeing, all knowing member of their group, but Zayn isn’t nearly as cynical as Louis can be. 

“Nothing’s ever a sure thing, Zayn.” The thought hurts, but it’s necessary. Zayn doesn’t say anything in response. You can’t argue with the truth.

 

*****

 

His back is stiff and his eyes are tired, but he just can’t sleep. He keeps thinking about everything, obsessing over it. He needs to tell him, that much he’s certain of. The full body ache he has going wouldn’t let him do any differently. The idea of not telling him, of walking through life not letting him know the truth of it all, that’s terrifying. But that doesn’t make the idea of telling Harry any easier. 

Louis takes a slow, easy breath and shuts his eyes, trying to will himself into dreamland. It isn’t so easy. He clings to his pillow and squeezes his eyes shut, but that doesn’t work either...Instead he’s bombarded with so many images. Images from the stage, of the blood. Images of after, looking down on Harry’s glassy eyes and his bandaged head. He hated seeing him that way. Just remembering it makes his heart shudder. It could have been so much worse. Thank god it wasn’t.

They had been through too much to have it all end now. Not that they were anything to end, they hadn’t been for a long time now, hadn’t really been back then either. But that is what this is all about, really. Louis finally gets it, he finally understands that they always should have been more than what they were, and that he shouldn’t have let himself be swayed so easily. The sex was never just sex, and Louis should never have let himself believe that. And yet he had, and they had lost so much time. Today they had almost lost it all. Louis just can’t let that be who they are, he can’t let him go, it’s even more obvious now. 

The blankets feel like a heavy armor, blocking out the world, but they can’t block out everything. He tries his best to fall asleep, but all he can think about it Harry. Harry and blood, Harry and a hospital bed, Harry and Louis’ sheets. Spread out, miles of skin just waiting to be touched. It was all so long ago now, but Louis can never forget that, never forget the way Harry was with him. He feels so stupid for being so blind when it’s all so obvious now. It had never been just sex for Harry, and Louis had always been fooling himself. He’d wasted so much of their time. He had almost wasted all of it. The need for Harry is like a weight on his chest, and that’s the thought he falls asleep to, hands curled protectively across his chest, and a lump in his throat.

 

*****

 

The sound of a door creaking open in the morning is a bit disorienting. Louis blinks open his eyes, confused but too tired to fully commit. He yawns and slowly opens his eyes making out the dark shape of Harry just inside the doorway. He’s slightly hunched over, a small and fluffy pink bear stuffed into one hand. It must have been from some fan, sending Harry a little bit of silly comfort. His eyes sting at the thought, thinking about the reasoning. He blinks past any sort of tears and forces himself to sit up.

“What’re you doing here, Haz?” He’s desperate for some water but right now Harry’s all he sees. He should probably be the one offering him water, or he should be helping him into the room, all things considered. 

“Needed a lie in and a cuddle, didn’t I?” Comes Harry’s slow reply, and Louis cracks a smile. It’s been a long time since Harry has done this, since this has been the norm. Little by little it has been getting easier again. He knows what happened the night before is probably the driving force behind Harry being in Louis’ hotel room right now. Of course he isn’t happy about what happened, but the fact that Harry has come directly to him means so much.

“Get ‘ere, then.” He mumbles, throwing back the duvet and scooting over just a bit. He looks on as Harry drops his jeans and carefully pulls his shirt up and over his bandaged head. Louis is just relieved he doesn't forget and snag his shirt on a bandage. The horrifying thoughts Louis is having about it are clearly enough, though he is sure his imagination is more than likely just being dramatic.

They lie there together in silence for a few heavy minutes, huddled close. Their arms are grazing and Louis’ mind is racing. Louis is about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when Harry reads his mind and finally whispers, “I’ve missed you, you know.” Louis’ heart hurts at the omission and his hand travels across sheets and under them to find Harry’s hand. Their fingers tangle with easy familiarity. He just wants to hold his hand.

“I always miss you.” He breathes through his nose and lifts Harry’s hand to his lips, leaving a soft, lingering kiss there. It’s a tender moment, a moment fragile in a way things have not been in a long time. Louis savors the stillness. 

They just lay there together for a while in the silence, simply breathing. Louis can feel all the words wanting to get out. They are a heavy weight on his chest, and he knows that if he waits any longer he may burst. Yet he feels like he has to. He squeezes Harry’s hand and nuzzles his nose against it. Harry’s breath hitches but he doesn’t say anything, and Louis stares at him, watching his chest rise and fall with steady breaths. 

Harry looks tired and worn out, but still so much better than he had looked when Louis left the night before. The bandage is a stark white against Harry’s hair, and Louis can’t help the way his eyes are drawn to it. 

“Does it still hurt?” 

Harry’s eyes dart quickly to Louis’, an amused smirk sliding onto his face.

“I cracked my head open on stage. Right now my pride’s hurting a little more than my head.”

Normally Louis would have automatically taken the piss out of Harry, he would be rolling his eyes and joking around. Something in him is still so shaken, though, and he just can’t. Hearing Harry so flippantly mention what happened strangely...hurt. It isn’t something to be so casually brushed aside and laughed off, it was too soon.

“Don’t,” He cuts himself off, swallowing and averting his eyes from Harry’s, surprised at the sudden hitch in his speech. “I was so scared, on stage. When I saw you, I was so scared and then you were gone and nobody would tell me anything.” His eyes slip shut, and he can feel Harry squeeze his hand tighter. “I was so scared and angry that I didn’t tell you, because what if…” His breath shudders out of his mouth in a huff, and he begs himself not to cry, but he can already feel the wet slide of a tear down his cheek. 

“Hey, no, don’t cry.” Harry’s voice sounds rough and heavy, and Louis can feel his hand suddenly cupping his cheek. Louis can not help but indulge himself by leaning into it. “What didn’t you tell me?”

Louis shuts his eyes and wishes there was some way to just skip everything that was about to happen. The need to tell him had become a gnawing ache, but that doesn’t mean letting it out will suddenly magically make everything better. But he has to give it a try. He just feels so foolish.

“That I’m in love with you.” His voice is quiet in the room, rushed out in nothing but a whisper, and he can’t help but tense up as he feels Harry freeze all along his body. He isn’t expecting anything, isn’t demanding an answer, he just needed Harry to know. And now he does. 

The moment is suspended in time right then, Louis unsure of what is to come. He isn’t expecting anything but that doesn’t make it any easier. The rejection will sting even when it’s inevitable.. He can’t have expected Harry to wait all this time, to still feel the way he had felt at sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.

“Oh, Lou.” Harry’s voice is strained and so full of emotion that Louis can’t even really read into it and figure out what it all means. Louis keeps his eyes averted and his face neutral, right up until he feels soft fingertips guiding his face upward. He finds a face with watery eyes and a beaming smile. His hair is still a bit of a disaster, but to Louis he’s absolutely perfect. This was a good news face, a face that told him that everything was about to feel right.

“I love you too.” Harry’s thumb brushes away a tear. “I’m in love with you too.” He says it quickly, as if he can’t believe he’s really saying it, face alight in awe. For a moment they just breathe and stare at each other, keeping close with nervous smiles. After a moment Harry nudges their noses together and sighs, gazing happily into Louis’ eyes. The air is electric, buzzing with a heat that Louis wants to fall into. 

“Are you planning on ever actually kiss-” Of course Harry won’t let him finish his little smart arse comment, but Louis can’t say that he minds. Not when it’s been so long since he last had Harry’s lips on his own. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to turn from sweet and eager to slick and hot, and Louis isn’t shocked in the slightest. Back when they were fooling around, they really fooled around any and every chance they got. So now it was as if their bodies want to make up for lost time, like they are aching to get reacquainted with one another. Their tongues meet and tangle and Louis moans, his leg hitching up and around Harry’s hip. Maybe not the best idea but that doesn’t stop Louis from arching up into the kiss, his hands traveling south.

“Louis.” Harry breaks off from his lips only to get his name caught in a broken moan. Louis squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head fall against the pillow, giving Harry some space. His brain was catching up with his heart (and let’s be honest, his dick) and he’s very well aware that now is not a good time for this. Right about now Harry should be sleeping, recuperating and getting back to tip top shape. Just because he had been released from hospital doesn’t mean anything goes. Everything still feels so fragile. Sometimes Louis hates being responsible, but it’s easy to listen to reason when flashes of the night before come to mind. 

“You should get to sleep, babe.” His cheeks pink at the slip of the endearment, but he won’t let himself be swayed. Harry pouts but his eyes are bright.

“But Lou, we should talk, and _kiss_ some more-”

“Your head-” Louis reasons, inching away, however begrudgingly. 

“-It’s fine.”

“Sure.” Louis rolls his eyes, and pretends to be immune to the little kisses Harry starts to litter across his neck and down into the dip of his collar bones. He seems to be completely focussed on derailing Louis’ plans to sleep, and he lets him think just that for a moment. He combs a hand through Harry’s curls, tugging lightly before scratching fingers down his back. He revels in the feeling of Harry’s lips dragging across his heated skin, and allows himself to moan as he sucks a bruise into his chest. It’s only when Harry’s hand drifts down to cup the bulge in his pants that he draws the line. Louis flutters his eyes shut and tries his best not to just fall into the feeling.

“You know that above all else I hate a cockblock-”

Harry actually whines at that, and Louis tries his best not to be endeared (he fails). 

“-but I don’t want to push you in your delicate state.” He hears a clear snort at that, and Louis doesn’t even bother holding back his smirk. 

“Fiiiiiine.” Harry sighs and then punctuates the statement with one final firm grope before simply cuddling into Louis’ side. “Spoilsport.”

“Just looking out for you, babes.” He says, turning his head to nuzzle into Harry’s cheek, being mindful of the bandage on his head.

“I’d rather you be _putting out_ for me.” Louis isn’t shocked by the fact that Harry actually sounds legitimately grumpy, but he does find it ridiculously adorable. So he puckers up and leaves a lingering kiss to Harry’s pouted lips.

“If you’re good I’ll wake you up with some mid afternoon head.”

“You know I’ll wake up first.”

“Are you complaining, Harold?” Louis narrows his eyes up at Harry, and Harry just looks delighted.

“No, Lou _isss_.” 

“Good.”

They settle into the quiet of the early morning, Harry’s arm wrapped tight around Louis’ waist. It’s just as Louis starts to notice Harry’s breathing begin to even out, that it occurs to him.

“Do I need to stay up and wake you every three hours?”

The response is a bit delayed, but Louis can practically hear Harry rolling his eyes in his slow, tired drawl. 

“I don’t have a concussion, Lou.”

“I know, but-” The worry that had been nearly absent suddenly flares up inside of him, just at the thought of something going wrong. He knows it’s illogical, knows that they only really kept him overnight as an extra precaution, but he’s a natural worrier, and Harry is worth worrying over. 

“I’m okay now. Really. Promise.” Louis can’t help the way his eyes soften at that. He’s just so relieved. So much had happened in such a short period of time, it’s difficult to keep all of his emotions in order. Harry’s lips flicker into a tired, fond smile. “Sleep. We don’t have anywhere to be. We can talk more later.” He squeezes Louis’ hand and then brushes some hair out of Louis’s eyes. They both sigh, settling against each other. Their little, private world has just made a monumental shift, their relationship was morphing and that was a lot on it’s own. It was enough for them right now. They were both okay, and they were going to be okay together. Louis’ eyes crinkled as he smiled, face soft and exhausted. Heavy eyes closed and their lips pressed together again, slow and happy. Their legs are tangled and their heads are bent close, nearly sharing a pillow. It’s a new, better day, Louis has his boy and they are going to sleep in, maybe even clear to the afternoon. They have plenty of time to figure the rest out later.


End file.
